I was having lunch with a friend. We had met at church, and
discovered we not only worked for the same company, we also worked in buildings
across the street from each other. We had previously met for lunch, arranging
to meet at the entrance of the company cafeteria. This time he was coming from
a meeting, so I told him to pick me up at my office on the way and then we’d
head to the cafeteria together.
When he arrived and knocked at the open door, his entire expression hanged. I asked if something was wrong, and he shook his head. We walked down to the cafeteria, with me doing most of the talking. He acted and spoke with reserve, and he seemed troubled by something.
As we ate, he finally said, “You’re a grade 41.”
Surprised he would know, I nodded.
“Your office,” he said. “It’s the office for a 41.” Until that moment, I had known there were grades, but I didn’t know that offices also contained their own hierarchal code.
“Stock options,” he said. “Executive bonus.” I nodded again.
When he arrived and knocked at the open door, his entire expression hanged. I asked if something was wrong, and he shook his head. We walked down to the cafeteria, with me doing most of the talking. He acted and spoke with reserve, and he seemed troubled by something.
As we ate, he finally said, “You’re a grade 41.”
Surprised he would know, I nodded.
“Your office,” he said. “It’s the office for a 41.” Until that moment, I had known there were grades, but I didn’t know that offices also contained their own hierarchal code.
“Stock options,” he said. “Executive bonus.” I nodded again.
To continue reading, please see my post today at The
High Calling.
Photograph by Talia Felix
via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
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